Gretta the Initiate of Shallyah's page

"Taken?! TAKEN?!" Gretta shrieked. There was no consoling her. Caspar, her love, was missing!

"Be at peace young one," Sister Emanuelle chided Gretta softly, placing her hand on the young initiates shoulder. "There was nothing for it. It was upon the Gravin's orders. A wretched woman, yes, but she wields considerable power."

"And so you let them just...TAKE HIM?!" Gretta shouted, rage flushing into her face like a red wave.

"If you would just take a moment and--"

Gretta stormed out of the hospice in tears, howling in anger and sadness. How had she let this happen?! How could she...

Sucking in her breath, Gretta lifts her chin suddenly, the tears stopping almost at once. With an act of defiance she begins to tear off her white cowl and habits, tossing them in the gutter at her feet.

"So that's how it is?" she muses coldly, her voice like the cutting edge of a poisoned blade. "We'll see about that. Hold strong, Caspar my love. I'm coming..."

ELSEWHERE...

"Of course, Sister, I'll be sure to prepare the supplies for the new arrivals. Those poor souls th--" Gretta is struck suddenly across the face as if slapped, flailing backwards and striking the hard stone wall of the hospice! Behind her, a group of astonished Sisters of Shallyah looks on with shock.

Gretta gasps and turns, looking for her assailant. Cold waters rise around her ankles! The room is filled with the musky smell of leather, sweat and fear. Around her, Gretta can hear the shrieks of terrified men, and the snapping commands of officers.

"Ah, SCHEISSE!" someone screams; Gretta's jaw drops. Such profane words inside a Temple of Shallyah?! Did the other Sisters hear that?!

Suddenly, Gretta no longer finds herself in the safety of the Hospice. No! She's elsewhere now, surrounded by utter chaos, terror and doom, all neatly gift wrapped by the Chaos Gods in a watery tomb.

Through a veil of confusion and fear, Gretta can see Lucas, the brave and handsome Captain fighting for his life in a lake of murky death. The presence of the Lady is strong with him, Gretta can feel this. Though she had not been with the temple longer than a fortnight, she always had the sight and the aura around Lucas was now nearly blinding!

Falling to her knees with a splash, Gretta begins to pray to Shallyah as well, her fervent words a mirror of Lucas' own.

"For Wolfenburg!" Lucas AND Gretta shout in unison, "FOR THE WHITE LADY!"

The Sisters look on in awe and wonder at the young initiate before them.

LACKEY:

"What exactly does this mean?" Gretta says, looking up from her stitching as she slowly works the name into Njord's jersey. 'The Wench' lackey had been referencing was none other than the fellowships former camp follower turned Sister of Shallyah.

"It mean He Who Rides Women Like Horse!" Njord replies, grinning broadly. Gretta can't help but laugh, rolling her eyes with a giggle. "No, truth. It is name of blade. Sverð Sigr: Sword of Victory. Think fitting for girl shirt men of Empire have me wear."

"If you'd like I can dye it pink for you as well," Gretta counters, grinning. Njord's jaw drops as she snickers. "What? The men of Norsca don't like pink?"

Both Norseman and Sister bust into a fit of laughter, an echoing chorus that fills the silent halls of the hospice. Nearby Caspar stirs for a moment from his sleepless stare and blinks. Jealousy (or is it something else) twists inside him, and then just like that he is gone once more, his eyes glassing over as he fades away once again into oblivion.

FOR CASPAR, A FAREWELL:

One by one you make your way to the old Wolfenburg orphanage, a sad building now turned over to the last remaining Sisters of Shallyah as a hospice for the care of the wounded and dying. It is to this grim place that you've come to pay what may be your final respects to one of your own.

You walk in silence down the somber narrow hallways, moving like ghosts past rooms filled with those who's days are numbered. White sheets wither and dance on an unseen wind as you pass.

Soon you arrive at a large room filled with cots and makeshift straw beds. At the far side of this room is a figure, curled and slumped, his back to each of you as he stares unblinking at a nearby wall. Next to him sits a woman dressed in the cool white habits of an initiate of Shallyah.

"Thank you all for coming," she says, a familiar smile appearing beneath the white cowl. "I know it's what he would have wanted. I'm not sure he's really with us anymore, but the least we can do is try."

The woman pulls back her cowl and you see Gretta in the initiate before you!

"Yes, I thought it best. I have...troubles. And I think there might be no better way to help myself than by trying to help others. I thought I'd start with him."

You see Gretta rest her hand across the shoulder of Caspar, gently stroking his cheek. The young bard is frozen, his eyes fixed, starting...straring...staring, never speaking. Not anymore.

Upon seeing your shocked looks by her sudden reversal of career, Gretta laughs.

"Oh, you remember Lieutenant Biedelmann?" she asks. "I really must give him credit. I was lost. This was his idea. Now I'm found. In the arms of Shallyah I think I might find at least some peace."

Until Wolfenburg is totally overrun and you're raped and murdered. Or worse! you think. You shake your head to be free of such grim thoughts.

"Anyhow, I really think it's best we let him rest. All this excitement has been too much for him today. Say goodbye, Caspar."

In silence Caspar ignores Gretta's comments, his eyes fixed on a loosely hung portrait on the wall nearby. On it is painted a man dressed in gray and white. Behind him the sun is shining and the sky is clear. In his hands he holds a red lute and he's playing! The music must be beautiful. Women are dancing and children are laughing!

An invisible tear runs down Caspar's cheek as the Eye of the Raven averts its gaze and the scene goes dark...